Life Isn't Easy

RATING: T

SUMMARY: ...But for Kit, giving up isn't a viable option, even in the face of an outbreak—of zombies, of death, of insanity—that shakes her world, turns it upside down, and gives her a new life.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Resident Evil; I am simple borrowing the characters for a short while.

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Time for Chapter Two! I know it's short, but I have around 4 chapters of this story—incredibly long ones—typed up. I'm getting back into the swing of writing fanfictions slowly with a POTO fic, but this is one story that i'll sit down and re-read what i've written, and I'll even work a bit on it here and there. I wanted to post more, though I'm not sure if I'll pick this back up to work on or not. I'm also chopping up the chapters and editing and adding/removing things as I go, as my writing style has definitely changed as I've aged in the last six or seven years.

CHAPTER TITLE: One down.

I couldn't help feeling curious. With all the weaponry and the number of people who knew how to operate it—for hunting, but still killing something nonetheless—would it be too much of a stretch to say someone had a good chance of surviving this?

I…I had to find out.

Plus I had to check for anyone I knew, and hopefully get the hell outta here, as far away as I could.

For that, I would need a car… I frowned at the empty driveway.

I then thought of the neighbors. They rarely went anywhere, and I doubt I'd be pulled over for not having a driver's license or for a simple carjacking in this type of mess…Even if there were someone to pull me over. I knew perfectly well how to drive—I'd just wanted to wait until I was eighteen and therefore didn't have to cough up the money for Driver's Ed. I sighed. It was 1998, July—the time period didn't escape me. It was when Resident Evil One was set. That single fact was creepy beyond reason. It was late July, however, which was odd.

And now this…the zombies. I hesitated upon getting up from my seat. This couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Maybe a scientist that was obsessed by the games found out how to make a real T-virus and stupidly let it loose.

It sounded a bit silly, a bit paranoid, but…It could make sense.

I shook my head and grabbed my other two holsters—a upper-leg holster for my shotgun, which was short but very powerful, and my rifle went onto my back, on its strap. I grabbed a pair of fingerless gloves that Dad had gotten me a week or two after the knife, and I shoved them onto my hands. I checked around for anything else.

Right. Bottled Water.

I grabbed a bottle and put it in my attaché case, confident that I would most likely need it. I went over to a cabinet and dug deeply into a drawer, bringing out a nice leather pouch I'd gotten when I went to my first convention, last year.

I went over to the medicine cabinet and put in painkillers, migraine medicine, antibiotic ointment, band-aids and some bandages. I'd probably get really beaten up, but hopefully, not bitten.

I hadn't played Resident Evil 2 yet but it was freaking obvious—don't get bitten, and you aren't infected. Hopefully.

I sighed and peeked out of the window, quickly. All clear. Now was as good as any time to leave. I quickly wrote a note, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from a cluttered drawer that I'd actually rearranged quite a long time ago.

The glass is really tough.

All but the front door is locked.

If you need safety, stay here.

No food, though, but shelter.

Take as much time as you need—I won't be coming back.

Keep the curtains drawn, and don't enter if you're bitten.

If you're bitten, you're already dead.

Signed, Kit.

I quickly taped the light yellow piece of paper up on the inside, just in case the weather got bad. I was glad, sickeningly so, at that moment, that all the pets had died or run away in the last six months. No doubt because of my mother's rough treatment. How I had longed to run away as well…

I shook that from my head, and opened the door, then walked outside, shielding my eyes for a second from the blinding glare of summer sunlight. I shook it off and started over for the neighbors, groaning a little when I realized I'd have to hop the fence.

Ah, well. Better than a kick in the head.

I hefted myself over the wooden fence, trying not to get splinters. That would just plain suck. After I hopped down from the five-foot-tall fence, I looked around again, absolutely silent. Nobody. Nothing.

…

Good.

I walked towards their white truck, complete with a guard in front of the front bumper because of the amount of deer around during this time; the chance of hitting one was enormous nowadays; when a scream was heard from inside the neighbor's tan-painted house.

I flinched as I saw blood spatter on the windows, red clashing horribly with the dark brown shutters, the scream cut short. Glancing towards the cab of the truck, I was happy to find that the keys were in the ignition. This was a dead-end-road off of a highway, so nobody on the road was afraid of being robbed. Nobody locked their doors at night, and they felt free to leave the keys in their cars or ignitions, luckily for me.

The older man, with blood on his face and hands suddenly pressed up against the window, white-streaked brown hair threaded through his teeth, clutched in his hands, red gore dribbling through his lips. His milky eyes centered on me. A chill ran down my spine.

'Time to go!'

I hopped in the cab, quickly checked to make sure nothing else was in here—I'm rightfully paranoid right now, dammit—and then started it up. It started up well, and I saw that I had a full tank of gas.

A bitter smile came to my lips as I put it in gear and drove down the driveway, and then started up over the hill to start leaving the road.

How fucking lucky could I be in this type of situation? I decided to not let my mind dwell too long, since there was no use in doing so.

I drove carefully down the lane I loved and knew so well I could walk it blindfolded. Truly. I've lived here since I was three, and now I had to leave it. Prematurely. I was all ready to leave my parents, eager, even, but…not this place. This beautiful, beautiful place.

I turned onto the highway, and sighed. Nobody on the road. The houses along the highway were dark; silent, their residents having fled from the oncoming horror of the undead, no doubt. I kept going to the right, up a hill, down a hill, up another slight incline—there were so many hills in Ohio—and up and down again. Coming to a turn I carefully maneuvered, a steep incline on the other side.

I do NOT want to wreck down that, especially in these circumstances, so I went way over the center line, driving down the wrong side of the road, just to make sure I didn't just twitch and send myself to my probable death.

Swerving back onto the proper side of the road, my breath hitching as I saw a zombie in front of me, on the road, gnawing on an arm. Needless to say, I gunned it and sent it flying over the truck's hood, over the bed, and back into the road with a loud cracking noise. Good. It wouldn't be following me into Leighton, I surmised, seeing that it wasn't getting up and it was only slightly twitching. I grinned humorlessly, a grim and dark smile.

Well, that's one down.

Who knows how many more to go?